


W.I.T.C.H.

by sksdwrld



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe- no war, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:06:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 6 years after Hogwarts, and Hermione is shocked when she runs into Malfoy in New York City. It's a redeeming love story, fluff, OOC, no smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	W.I.T.C.H.

Sometime ago, in Hermione’s first, or perhaps second year at Hogwarts, she had played a children’s fortune telling game with her friends called W.I.T.C.H (Whirwind, Intense, Too long, Children first, Hexed). There was no real magic to it, just a simple game with parchment, quill, and the element of chance to pair girls and boys, tell of their romance, of their engagement rings, and their wedding details. It was a game to make little girls squeal in horror or laugh with delight. 

Sometimes, the first game she played popped back into her head; Pavarti’s finger following the lines across the paper. “Oh, oh! Hermione is going to have a whirlwind romance, and get engaged at the circus with a diamond ring-ooh, how fancy. She’s going to get married in Paris in a green dress to….” She gave a long pause for dramatic effect and the other girls were hanging on her every word “Draco Malfoy!” Everyone squealed to hear she’d gotten the foil, and jostled her around. Hermione pretended to gag, then faint. “Who’s next, who’s next? Oh, Lavender…children first….”

 

After Hogwarts, Hermione’s focus had changed. She decided on training to become Healer. There was prestige, encouragement to be a know-it-all in one’s field, and new hexes and curses were always popping up, so problem solving skills, quick thinking on ones feet, and research were a job requirement. It was perfect for her, and she enjoyed every brain-busting moment of her training. It had been an intense 6-year long study program, culminating in an internship of her choice. 

There were up-and-coming techniques practically flying out of the United States. Hermione had made the New York City Wizarding Research Hospital her first choice, and of course she was accepted to the program. She made sure to put her best efforts in, and rarely left the dorms, if she wasn’t in the library or at the hospital itself. One day in mid autumn, however, she was struck by the sudden craving for a latte and a buttery croissant. The mock-food in the hospital cafeteria weren’t going to cut it on this day, certainly not. She braved her way onto the streets, looking for a well-reputed Parisian café that one of the Healers she worked with had mentioned on several occasions. It was a sunny, if not cool day, but there were still a few tables on the sidewalk. Hermione fingered her sweater, and though she wished she had worn a scarf, decided that the fresh air would do her some good. She had brought along one of her texts and a good, old-fashioned muggle highlighter. Her wizarding comrades would probably die if they found out she was defacing important materials with neon yellow markers but she had paid for this book with her own money, and she would study in her own way. She looked at the menu posted on the outside of the building before taking a seat in the brightest sun.

After several minutes, a waiter happened by. “Bonjour, miss, can I take your order?”

She flopped her text closed and looked up with a smile, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. “Yes, I’d like a pumpkin….Malfoy?” Her smile faltered and she looked confused. The man standing in front of her was the spitting image of Draco Malfoy, only with a polite smile of amusement instead of a glare of disgust. And he was wearing the uniform of a waiter-black t-shirt, black slacks, and a short black café apron tied around his slender waist. As he beamed at her, she shook her head. “I’m sorry, you reminded me of someone I knew once. I’m sorry, didn’t mean to waste your time,” She picked up her book again and cracked it back open. “Pumpkin latte, and a warm croissant, please. Thank you.” When she felt him move away, she could breath again, but her heart was thumping in her chest. It couldn’t be Malfoy. There’s no way he’d be in the heart of New York City, swarmed by muggles, let alone working some job he considered menial labor for what must be pennies. 

“Can I get you anything else?” Merlin. Even his voice had the same timbre. She looked up into sparkling eyes and felt her heart in her throat. He was a beautiful muggle, even if he did look like Draco Malfoy.

“No, thank you,” She managed to murmur.

“Enjoy,” he replied with another bright smile and moved away.

 

Hermione must have sat in the sun there for two hours. He had brought the check long ago, and she weighed it down with her coffee cup without looking at it. Finally, she closed the book and stretched her arms skyward, then reached for the bill. It was face down, and despite the wet ring in the middle, she could still read what was written on the back with a flourish in ballpoint.

 

Hermione,

 

It is always nice to see a friendly face. You seemed busy and I didn’t want to bother you, but I wouldn’t mind catching up over dinner or tea. Send me an owl if you’re agreeable. I didn’t realize you were in the States too.

 

~Draco

 

 

Hermione’s hand shook a bit. So it had been Draco. Why didn’t he identify himself? What was he doing here, and was he under some kind of spell? The man that waited on her this afternoon certainly was not the Draco Malfoy she’d known years ago. She stood and pulled several muggle dollars from her pocket, striding inside to pay the bill. “Is….is Draco still here?” she asked the girl behind the counter. 

“No,” she replied briskly, handing Hermione her change. “His shift was over an hour ago, but I can set his tip aside for him if you like,”

Hermione nodded, and scrawled her address on a ten dollar bill, before handing it to the girl, blushing. The girl smirked knowingly and put it in a ceramic jar on the shelf. “Good luck honey, he gets about twelve of those a day. Hell, I’d give him a hundred if I thought it’d do me any good. That man is an Adonis, and British accents make tingles run up and down my spine.” 

Hermione could only smile nervously and nod agreement, while the girl chuckled. “Yes, well, he’s sort of a friend of mine, from England. Please see that he gets it,”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” the girl replied rolling her eyes.

 

The next day, she didn’t make it home before 8pm. Hermione flopped into her arm chair and kicked off her shoes with a huff before noticing the impatient owl pacing back and forth in front of the window by the kitchenette. She let it in and it hooted it’s displeasure of being left in the cold for so long. She smoothed it’s feathers with a warm hand several times before reaching for the message. 

 

Hermione,

 

I’m off tomorrow, can you meet me for lunch? You pick the time and place.

 

~Draco

 

 

Hermione sighed rather loudly before digging parchment and quill from her bag.

 

Draco,

 

Sadly, I’m rather busy these days. How about a late dinner on Thursday night? My clinicals don’t start until 10am on Friday morning. I’ll let you choose the place, I’ve been here for months and only seen then inside of textbooks.

 

Hermione

 

 

It had taken her nearly fifteen minutes to compose it, after spelling the page clean several times. The owl had tucked its head under a wing and was snoozing softly. But when she approached, it snapped to attention, and hooted at her.

“Yes,” She said softly, giving it another gentle pat. I’m sorry, you can take it back to Draco now,”

 

 

Thursday morning had come far too slowly, but the day went by too fast for her to keep track of. She was running late and didn’t even have time for a proper shower. “Thank Merlin for Magic,” She mumbled to herself, casting a cleansing spell just before yanking on a pair of tan slacks and a button up shirt. She looked at herself in the mirror and scowled, then traded the shirt for a pale blue blousy number. She had spelled her hair into fourteen different styles, and tried 3 different shades of lipstick when a knock came at the door. “Oooh, bugger!” She hissed at herself, snatching up a pair of earrings and fastening them on her way to the door. Hermione peered through the door peep and saw a rather bored looking Draco leaning against the door jam. He was dressed in black slacks, shirt and blazer, and pale blond locks fell over one eye. Maybe he hadn’t changed so much after all. She smoothed her clothes, took a breath, and yanked open the door. Draco straightened immediately and looked sheepish. “Hi! Thought you were having second thoughts,”

“And thirds,” she joked uneasily. “No, sorry. I’m running late, should we go?” She half turned to grab her purse from the stand and he laughed at her.

“No, calm down, it’s fine. Here,” He held up a small bouquet of wild flowers and Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, looking at him. “What? Did I do something wrong? Is there a mugger behind me?” Draco looked over his shoulder in both directions. “It’s what the muggles do, isn’t it, flowers?”

“Oh, yes, I..thank you,” Hermione accepted the flowers sheepishly. “Erm, come in. I’ll…find something to put them in,” Truth be told, she hadn’t been on a date in sometime, and she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had bothered with flowers. She ended up filling a large water glass and tucking them inside. Draco stood silently in her kitchenette, watching her bumble about. He seemed amused. When she was finished, he nodded at her. “And now, how about a proper ‘hello’?”

“What?” she turned to look at him and he was grinning at her. Merlin, how he had changed, and yet, was still the same.

“I was thinking something along the lines of ‘Hermione, it’s been ages, how are you’?” He came at her with open arms and she allowed herself to be pulled in for a brief hug. When he released her, he could only laugh at the quizzical look on her face. “What is the matter with you?”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Malfoy?”

“I’ll explain over dinner, if you don’t mind. And now,” he pulled a small round watch out of the inner pocket of his black blazer. “We are running late. Shall we?” He offered his arm to her and Hermione took it skeptically, drawing another laugh from him. “Settle down, won’t you? It’s not a trick. Sweet Salazar, it’s been years since I was that dreadful prat from school,”

 

They took a cab to a Tapas restaurant, and Hermione couldn’t help asking him again who he was. “Wouldn’t you rather apparrate or take the tubes?” The tubes were the American equivalent of the floo network, and were considered public transportation, since they worked through the extensive network of ducts installed outside of buildings rather than from home to home,. He had waved his hand. “I can’t ever keep track of those things. Too many options. I ended up in Minesota once, cow fields and Vikings. Besides, they’ll hold the reservation,”

Draco had pressed for information about herself, how she came to be here, in New York City, and how her training was going. She had prattled on and on through microgreen salads, and two cosmopolitans before settling her glass down. “Enough about me, really. I’m the most boring person on the planet. I’m dying to know how you, of all people, came to be here, waiting on tables and taking on American muggle customs. I thought you were training to be an Auror with Harry?”

He smiled down at the table, dabbed his mouth with the napkin, and settled it into his lap. “Fair enough. I’ve been myself forever, and I always forget that people aren’t always up to date with my personal on-goings.” He offered a weak smile and took a drink. “Better buckle up, it’ll be a long ride catching you up on seven years of Malfoy-drama,”

Hermione smiled and raised her glass. “I’m ready and waiting,”

“Well, after Hogwarts, I did the Auror-training thing for about a year. Then my father was involved in some sort of terrible accident, and passed rather unexpectedly,” He nodded through Hermione’s shocked condolences. “Yes, thank you. It was so long ago, I’m fine now, really. Anyway, it was a rather hard blow for both of us, my mother and I. I took some time away from training, and after a lot of thought, realized I’d never much been happy, with anything. Father was quite oppressive, and had a way of making you do what he thought was for the best, regardless of whether it was in your own personal interests or not. It was all, ‘Act Properly,’ and ‘Don’t sully the family name’ and ‘We’ve got a reputation to uphold,’. But after the funeral, I realized what exactly it was that everyone thought of us, and that the people who we had thought were friends were nothing of the sort. It was sort of, life changing, you know? 

Mother, well, she had always been under father’s thumb, and she was glad, too, I think for a bit of fresh air. She said I should do something I was happy with. But it was hard to dig myself out of the same old routine, living in the same place with the same expectations.

You know, once you’ve created a reputation for yourself, it’s hard to change people’s perceptions of you,” He paused to wink at Hermione, who had froze with her glass in mid air, and was flushing a dark shade of pink.

“Oh, Malfoy, I’m so sorry,” she breathed.

He clinked his glass against hers, “Cheers, Hermione. And please, call me Draco,” With sparkling eyes, he finished his drink, and had just gestured for another round when the waitress brought their plates. The aromas were too enticing, and they both dug in. After a few minutes, Draco resumed his tale. “At any rate, I figured I had never been to America, and no one here would know me, or could judge me, and it would be a new life for myself. I thought I’d stay for a bit, and then maybe travel, but believe it or not, I like it here. I even like the muggles. They’re rude and unforgiving, and always bustling about, and there’s something comforting about that. It’s my ‘bit of home’, I suppose. But anyway, that is that. I found that once I got away from expectations and old habits, I was a much happier person,”

Hermione was in shock. Of course, it all made sense, but the last time she had seen Malfoy, he’d been a selfish prat of a boy. Of course, years had turned him into the man before her, but since she’d not been there to witness it, it all seemed a miraculous transfiguration. “And what of the café?”

“Oh, that,” He waved his hand. “There’s still the family fortune, of course. I don’t even really need to work. But I spent so much time at the café when I first got here that they eventually offered me a job. It alleviates the boredom, and it’s actually very flattering to ones ego. The Yanks here find me terribly attractive. I get asked out all the time, ladies and blokes you know,”

“So I heard,” Hermione said with a smile. “That girl behind the corner fancies you, you know,”

“Amy?” Draco scowled, then smiled. “That girl has been trying to get in my pants for years, but she’d sleep with anyone, I think.”

“You wouldn’t?” Hermione said incredulously. Rumors always swirled around Draco in their Hogwarts days, and she’d always pictured him as a playboy. 

He looked sheepishly at her and ruffled the hair on the back of his head. “Me? Well, Gosh, Hermione. I do have some standards, you know,”

“Are there even any purebloods here in America?” she questioned him between bites. “I was under the impression that this was the great melting pot. Never know where wizards will pop up, since everyone’s mixing with everyone else,”

“I can’t even believe you would say that after I just told you how I’ve been trying to escape everything from my past,” He sipped his drink again, but didn’t seem angry. “I know it must be hard for you to believe, but I’m not the ignorant, bigoted creep that tormented you and your friends at Hogwarts. I was hoping you’d see that when I asked you out. Hermione,” he set his drink down and caught her eye, placing one hand on top of hers from across the table. “Hermione, I’m sorry for the things I did to you, and the things I said to you. I was a boy then, and I didn’t know any better. I was trying to make my parents happy, and I was trying to be what they wanted me to be. But that was wrong, and it’s not who I am now. I hope that you can forgive me, and maybe we can even be friends,”

His apology brought tears to her eyes, surfacing with years of repressed hurt feelings. “No, Draco. I should be sorry. Here you are, trying to show me how much you’ve grown, and it’s me who is still holding on to the past. I hope we can be friends, I’d like that,” She offered him a shaky smile.

 

After dinner, they’d gone to a wizarding club that Hermione didn’t even know existed. Several drinks and another cab-ride later, they were outside the entrance to her dorm. Draco’s hand was on the small of her back, and there was a warmth thrumming through her. “Have a good night, Hermione. I had a great time, I hope you’ll see me again,”

“Yes, me too,” she breathed, looking at him. 

He tipped his head and moved to kiss her cheek, but she turned her head and caught his lips instead. When he lifted his head several minutes later, she fumbled for her ID to swipe for entrance in her purse, hands shaking. He dipped his fingers inside and fished it out for her. “Here,” he gave her another winning smile.

“Do you...” She bit her lip. “Do you want to come up for tea?”

His eyes sparkled at her, and his hand, still at her back, pressed her closer again. He gave her a much more chaste kiss this time, and shook his head. “I’d love to, but I’d better not, it’s late already, and I’ve got the early shift tomorrow. Besides, it’ll give you a reason to call on me again,”

 

 

And Hermione did call. They met twice the following week, and four times the week after. They met for dinner, and for lunch, walks in the park, and museums. They braved the crowd and went to Times Square for the muggle celebration of New Years Eve. 

“My god,” Hermione laughed to herself one night. “I am in love with Draco Malfoy,”

He caught her around the waist and smiled into the mirror from behind her. “Can you imagine how many people back home would drop dead from the thought- that Draco Malfoy is in love with Hermione Granger?”

 

To celebrate the last night of her internship, Draco bought tickets for Circ du Soleil. They both watched, Hermione enraptured by the performance, Draco curling his fingers through her hair. During the intermission, they were laughing over some small joke. Draco dipped his head toward her ear, whispering, “I’ve never been happier than I am with you,” she pulled back to beam at him, and saw in his hand, a small box.

“Draco, what are you doing?” her voice was barely audible.

“I want you to be my wife,” he said, opening the box and flashing a dazzling diamond at her. She felt faint and clutched at him. “Is that a yes? Please say yes. Do you want me to get on my knees? I’ll do it for you, on this sticky floor, in my good slacks and everything,” She gave a short, nervous laugh, and nodded, one hand fluttering at her throat.

Grey eyes twinkled at her. “Is that a yes, you want me to beg you, or yes you’ll marry me?” 

Her heart was pounding in her chest and all she could manage was, “Yes,”

He slid the cool gold band with it’s sparkling gems onto her finger. There was applause from the strangers around them who had stopped what they were doing to watch. They kissed until the lights dimmed for the second half of the show, and then the temptation was too great. “Take me home,” Hermione whispered, “I’m too excited to sit still,”

 

 

“Draco,” Hermione nudged him gently as he sat beside her on the plane. They were flying back to England for her graduation ceremony, and to break the news to their parents. He jerked upright and wiped his face before looking at her.

“Sorry, what? Was I snoring?”

She shook her head and smiled at him, turning the ring around and around on her finger. “We can get married in Paris if you like, but I am not wearing a green dress,”


End file.
